


maybe we can leave this undone

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Piss off, Dier, I swear to God–” Suddenly Dele’s grappling with Eric for his phone, gangly limbs in Eric’s space as he tries to delete the footage. Eric’s too quick though, and manages to toss his phone onto the coffee table before grabbing onto Dele’s shoulders and pushing him back to his side of the couch. His face is flushed and his smile is so wide, and Dele can’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of this movie night. Dele ignores the twinge in his stomach when Eric flexes his fingers, and figures that he’s been staring up at Eric for too long.-4 times Dele and Eric were oblivious to each other and the 1 time they did something about it.





	1. movie night

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'as fun' by naaz  
> **spoilers for the movie Train to Busan!!**

Dele all but throws himself onto the couch, earning a disapproving glance from Eric. It’s their weekly scheduled movie night at Dele’s house, mainly because he has a theatre room and because he’s also too lazy to battle the woes of London traffic each Saturday evening. So they compromised and now Eric has that luxury.

“We’re not fucking watching The Revenant again,” Dele says matter-of-factly, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Eric pauses from where he’s scrolling through the Netflix movies to look at him. “We’ve never even seen The Revenant before,” he snorts.

Dele waves his free hand around aimlessly and rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Point is, I can’t stand another one of those 3 hour long films with zero dialogue and intense close up shots that you always pick,” he says around a mouthful of popcorn. It’s not far from the truth. Dele can’t even remember the name of the last movie that Eric chose, since he ended up falling asleep before the halfway mark.

“I don’t always– okay, fine, Delboy, what would _you_ like to watch?” Eric asks with a sigh, tossing Dele the remote.

With a triumphant smile, Dele flicks through the options before settling on one and turning on English subtitles.

“Train to Busan?” Eric asks incredulously. “I have a pretty good memory of you hating anything to do with horror. Or shall I pull up that Gogglebox footage and we can both have a look?” he jokes, pretending to reach into his pocket for his phone.

Eric’s still snickering after Dele’s kicked him in the shin in an attempt to stop him from laughing. “Shut up,” he grumbles. “Zombie movies hardly count as horror. And don’t act like you weren’t scared then, too! The Haunting of Hill House was something else.”

Eric smirks and lifts up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’ll admit. But just know that I’m definitely going to say ‘I told you so’ if you turn it off halfway through,” he says, and presses play on the remote.

Dele just scoffs and directs his attention to the opening credits on screen, chewing on one of the drawstrings of his hoodie. He’s never actually seen a zombie apocalypse movie before, but how scary can they really be? Besides, he knows that the so-called ‘zombies’ are really just regular people with an excessive amount of fake blood on them, so there’s really nothing to be afraid of.

Right?

As the camera pans to a dull-looking toll gate, Dele can’t help but feel the slightest bit nervous about his movie choice. He doesn’t want Eric to think of him as a coward, although that Gogglebox episode might’ve already ruined his chances with that.

Dele really hopes that Train to Busan isn’t scary.

__

Train to Busan, is, in fact, scary.

It’s mainly the jumpscares that get him the most, of newly turned zombies and their tendency to appear out of thin air. The special effects makeup does nothing to help his situation either, and Eric must sense his uneasiness when he turns to look over at Dele.

“You doing okay, Del?” he asks, reaching over to tug down the collar of Dele’s hoodie where he pulled it up to his nose earlier. Eric’s tone is half-concerned and half-amused and it makes Dele flush with embarrassment. 

“I’m fine, the movie’s not even that–” He cuts his sentence off with a yelp as a bloodied hand suddenly smacks against the window of the train car on screen, breaking the short-lived silence. It’s at this point where Dele realizes that he’s practically attached himself to Eric’s side, hiding his face against Eric’s shoulder during each jumpscare, when they were definitely at opposite sides of the couch at the start of the movie. It’s comforting, but the new wave of embarrassment causes Dele to reluctantly ease away.

 _We should’ve just watched The Revenant_ , Dele thinks bitterly.

“It - It’s not that bad,” he tries again, awkwardly clearing his throat. Eric just gives him a slow smile and ruffles his hair before turning back to the movie. Dele is honestly grateful that they leave it at that, otherwise he wouldn’t hear the end of it at Monday’s training session.

They make it to the end of the film surprisingly quickly, and Dele mentally prepares himself when he realizes what’s yet to come. To his dismay, the main character gets bitten while trying to protect his daughter from the last zombie on the train. His daughter sobs from behind the locked door of the train car as the camera focuses on his slowly transforming face, and Dele feels his heart break when flashbacks of the newborn daughter play on screen - the father’s final thoughts before he fully succumbs.

“Fuck”, Dele whispers as the end credits fade in and out, pulling his sleeves over his hands to hastily wipe away the tears. Eric is crying too, but he doesn’t pass up the opportunity to revel in Dele’s suffering.

Dele groans when he realizes that Eric is filming him on his phone, and does his best to cover the tear-tracks on his face as Eric laughs from behind the camera.

“Piss off, Dier, I swear to God–” Suddenly Dele’s grappling with Eric for his phone, gangly limbs in Eric’s space as he tries to delete the footage. Eric’s too quick though, and manages to toss his phone onto the coffee table before grabbing onto Dele’s shoulders and pushing him back to his side of the couch. His face is flushed and his smile is so wide, and Dele can’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of this movie night. Dele ignores the twinge in his stomach when Eric flexes his fingers, and figures that he’s been staring up at Eric for too long.

“Get off of me,” he mumbles with no real bite, and accepts Eric’s hand as he pulls him to his feet. 

“So,” Eric starts, carrying the empty popcorn bowl into the kitchen. “I guess I was wrong. You’re not such a big scaredy-cat are you, Del?”

“I’ve been saying that since the beginning but you’ve always doubted me,” Dele shrugs nonchalantly as he follows Eric into the kitchen.

Eric raises an eyebrow as he turns back to Dele, a smile playing on his lips. “Oh, really? So you’re completely fine with watching the new Annabelle movie next week?” 

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” 

Eric just laughs harder when he dodges the coaster that Dele throws at him.

__

Later that night after Eric has left, Dele’s phone pings with an Instagram notification while he’s getting ready for bed.

_@ericdier15 mentioned you in their story_

It’s the clip that Eric filmed of him earlier, before Dele started wrestling him for the phone. Eric put the caption _‘He’s a softie_ ’ with a heart and the laughing emoji, and Dele rewatches the five second clip three more times with a dumb smile on his face, before a WhatsApp notification catches his attention.

 **Diet:** Consider that payback for all the times youve nutmegged me in training

Dele stares at the text with the same smile on his face before sending back _bit late for the payback, don’t u think? ;)_ before sending a goodnight text and falling asleep. 


	2. twenty one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very very slight blood warning near the middle! (it'll make sense i promise)

“So it’s 19-16 to me, then,” Eric points out smugly. “You’re slacking, Dele.”

Dele huffs and wipes the sweat from his brow. They’re currently engaged in a very intense game of Twenty One in Dele’s backyard, that he pestered Eric into joining after complaining that their FIFA match was boring. Now Eric’s determined to not let Dele win just to annoy him.

The stifling heat is getting to Eric, making his throat dry and his t-shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. Dele’s panting too, but the weather hasn’t dampened his efforts to regain the lead. He narrows his eyes and pinpoints the exact moment that Eric falters, successfully stealing the ball from him and dashing to his side of the court.

Eric runs after him, skidding to a halt as he watches Dele net the ball into the basket, earning himself another two points. Dele turns back to him while spinning the ball on his index finger like some wannabe basketball star. Eric hates it.

“19-18,” he announces, matching Eric’s smug tone from earlier. “Who’s the slacker now, I do wonder.” Dele’s usually neat curls are sticking to his forehead, and Eric resists the urge to reach out and run his hand through them.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see after I reach 21 first,” Eric says, taking a drink from his water bottle. He wipes his face with the front of his t-shirt and gets ready to head back to centre court, but not before Dele swipes his water bottle and drinks deeply. Eric stares at him dumbly as a drop of water slides down Dele’s neck, his mind already muddled from the heat.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Dier?” Dele calls. He's already running back to centre court, passing the ball to Eric before he can ask Dele about his own water bottle. Eric shakes his head and jogs back to where Dele’s standing, and the game resumes like nothing happened.

It’s probably for the best that Eric didn’t ask about the water bottle.

__

Dele hates losing. It’s a known fact from their teammates, Poch, and even his family after a bad game. Which is why Eric should’ve expected something like this to happen.

The score remains as 19-18 for what seems like an eternity, until Eric manages to block Dele’s shot and uses the rest of his energy to run to his side of the court. His lungs and muscles are burning, but it’s all worth it when he scores from outside the three-point line, effectively winning the game. 

“What did I tell you, Dele? First to 21 points,” Eric says as he walks up to the younger man, who’s leant forward with his hands on his knees.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Dele grumbles as he stands up, not bothering to shake Eric’s hand. 

“Good game,” he says shortly as he makes a bounce pass with a little too much force, which hits Eric square on the nose.

Pain immediately blooms across his face, and Eric curses as he feels blood start to drip down his chin, splattering onto the pavement in small red dots.

Dele’s on him in an instant, tripping over his words as he tries to apologize. “Eric, fuck, I didn’t mean– I’m sorry, is it bad? I’m really sorr–”

“Del, hey, it’s fine – let’s just get back inside, yeah?” Eric cuts in, while holding the collar of his shirt up to his nose to try and stop the bleeding. His voice comes out a bit nasally and it makes him chuckle a little despite having what might be a broken nose.

Dele’s not laughing though, and the guilt and panic is written all over his face. He nods hurriedly and takes Eric’s hand in his own, leading them back into the house. It might be the pain talking, but Eric thinks it’s sweet how gentle Dele’s being, giving him worried glances and stopping every few steps to make sure that Eric’s okay before continuing. 

_Who knew you were this soft?_

__

Dele’s bathroom counter is littered with used tissues and ice packs. He had first marched Eric into the bathroom, and then ordered him to take off his ruined t-shirt before using a warm washcloth to wipe the dried blood from Eric’s face. 

“I can do it myself, you know. My hands are fine,” Eric had protested, but to no avail as Dele just rolled his eyes and continued to wipe his face with a gentleness that made Eric’s heart ache. The proximity between them wasn’t unfamiliar but this time it seemed different – more tender, and Eric’s mouth ran dry every time Dele leaned in closer. Although the bleeding had stopped fairly quickly and he’d assured Dele that his nose wasn’t broken, that didn’t help the worried line between Dele’s eyebrows from fading. 

Eric has a fond look on his face as he watches Dele clean the last of the blood from his chin, before rinsing the washcloth and throwing out the rest of the used tissues.

“You’d make a pretty good carer, Del,” Eric says as he pulls a new t-shirt over his head. “I’ll remember to call you the next time I catch a cold.

“In your dreams, Diet,” Dele replies, leaning against the counter with a smile. “This was a one time thing, and don’t you forget it.”

Eric tries to grin back at him but the pain in his nose is still present, so it comes out looking more like a grimace. He cups the back of Dele’s neck as a thank you before stepping out of the bathroom.

“Eric,” Dele starts. His voice is small and he’s looking up at him from under his eyelashes when Eric turns back. 

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” 

_How could I ever be mad at you?_ Eric thinks, but instead he pulls Dele into his chest and wraps his arms around his middle.

“You’d have to try a lot harder than attempting to break my nose with a basketball for me to be mad at you,” Eric says, leaning back a little to look at Dele.

Dele smiles sheepishly and squeezes the inner corner of his eyes with his fingertips. “It’s just– I know that I get too competitive sometimes on things that don’t even matter but…”

He trails off when Eric wraps a hand around Dele’s wrist and smiles despite the dull pain from earlier. 

“I know, Dele. It’s okay. I know.”

Dele sinks back into Eric’s chest with a sigh, and at this point, Eric doesn’t care that he’ll most definitely wake up with a huge bruise on his face tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have absolutely no idea on how (a) basketball works, and (b) how to treat blunt force trauma. i hope it wasn't too obvious here lol


	3. training

International break eventually rolls around near the end of the season, and Dele is whisked off to St. George’s Park with a hastily packed suitcase and too many pairs of boots.

He feels as if though the last international break was ages ago, and as much as Dele loves his Spurs teammates and training at Enfield, working with Gareth and the rest of the England squad still feels like a dream come true from when he was young. Despite the camaraderie among the players and staff during arrivals, everyone knows there’s work to be done, and much to Dele’s dismay, preparations start bright and early on Tuesday.

Dele’s still half asleep when Gareth pairs him up with Eric for a balancing warmup, not registering the instruction and instead standing in the middle of the pitch while everyone else spreads out to start the exercise. A hand on his elbow stops him from completely falling asleep on the grass and Dele blinks blearily when he sees Eric staring down at him.

“Should’ve known you’d be up playing Fortnite instead of getting some proper sleep,” Eric says as they walk to an empty corner of the pitch. On the other side, Jesse and Trent are in the middle of some face-off and Jesse’s yelling is making Dele’s head hurt. It’s too early and he hates that Eric’s always right.

“I slept just fine, thank you very much.” Dele’s cover is blown as a yawn escapes his lips mid-sentence and Eric just raises an eyebrow before taking hold of his hand when they’re both ready.

The warmup is pretty standard – both partners start with one foot on the ground and hold onto each other with one hand, and the goal is to try and topple the other person. The exercise isn’t one of Dele’s favourites though, as he nearly always gets thrashed around no matter who he’s paired up with.

This time is no exception, and Dele almost collides with Eric’s shoulder as he yanks backwards on his hand without warning. Dele tries his best to stay standing, hopping on one foot while glaring at Eric.

“See, this is why you need to be well-rested, Delboy,” Eric says in a stupidly Gareth-like tone. “Wouldn’t want you distracted.”

Dele can practically hear the smirk in his voice and it makes him grip Eric’s hand harder in an attempt to topple him. It’s irritating how stable he is, being built like a wall, and Dele feels vaguely mismatched when he realizes that Eric has been hopping in the same spot this entire time.

“Three minutes left!”

Despite Dele’s efforts to skew Eric’s balance, Eric remains annoyingly stable. Dele’s brain manages to come back online for him to stare at the veins running up Eric’s tanned arms, and by the time that Dele watches his biceps flex, he’s zoned out for too long and Eric’s pulling him forwards once again. 

This time, Dele really does crash into him, and he lets out a startled _oof_ against Eric’s shoulder before Eric steadies him with a hand around his middle, laughing slightly.

One of the coaches blows the whistle and everyone breaks apart for some water. Dele lets go of Eric’s hand and collapses onto the grass, still bitter about how the warmup ended.

“Don’t even start, Dier. That was unfair and you know it.” Dele says when Eric hands him a water bottle. He knows he’s whinging again, and probably being unreasonable too, but nothing can really stop him when he gets like this.

“You’d better work on those muscles, Del!” Ben calls somewhere from his right. “But don’t worry, I’m sure Eric will help you with that,” he says with a wink before turning back to James. Dele has always known that he’s a bit on the leaner side, and although he’s not as scrawny as he used to be when he first joined Spurs, Dele still likes to believe that his upper body strength isn’t _that_ bad.

Eric laughs and nudges Dele’s ankle with his foot, and Dele just tells himself that things would’ve ended differently if he hadn’t gotten distracted by Eric’s arms at the last minute. 

__

Gareth rounds up the players and staff for a briefing at the end of the day, discussing new tactics and next steps for tomorrow. Dele misses the first five minutes of the briefing at the physio’s request, who wanted to check on his hamstring and make sure that the strain hadn’t returned.

After getting the all clear, Dele walks out of the medical room and heads towards the training area where the rest of the squad is gathered. The sleepiness that was clouding his mind earlier has cleared up for the most part, and he finds that walking through the empty halls is quite relaxing, before voices begin to echo around the corner where Gareth is explaining potential strategies that could be used in their next game, while everyone is either sat on or leaning against the training equipment.

As Dele quietly joins the rest of the group, he can’t help but feel a little awkward – like he’s late to class and trying to avoid a scolding from the teacher, although Dele knows he had a valid reason. Thankfully, Gareth continues his explanation, and Dele gravitates towards where Eric and Tripps are sitting on a weight bench.

“Didn’t miss much,” Eric says with a quick smile before turning back to the front. Dele nods and does the same, trying to tune into the plans for their next match. He soon realizes that he’s probably blocking people at the back, and Dele tries to crouch down so that his head’s not in the way. 

Eric notices his awkward position, and Dele thinks he might be hallucinating when he sees Eric wordlessly motion to his lap. It shouldn’t be weird for him to sit in Eric’s lap given that they’re best friends and that there’s nowhere else for Dele to sit, but that doesn’t stop the blush from creeping up his neck as he stares dumbly at Eric.

Dele has already accepted the fact that he isn’t absorbing any of the information that Gareth is saying, and all of his concerns about the briefing fly out of his mind when Eric just rolls his eyes and curls a hand around Dele’s thigh, pulling him onto his lap and effectively rendering him speechless for the rest of the briefing.

“Stay still,” Eric hisses when Dele keeps squirming around. His voice travels all the way down Dele’s spine, sending a shiver through his body.

His pulse quickens when he feels the warmth of Eric’s hands around his waist, adjusting his weight as Dele tries to stay as still as possible. He unconsciously leans into the touch before realizing what he’s doing, and does his best to keep a good amount of space between him and Eric’s chest. Dele listens to the voices flowing around him, and discerns that Gareth is answering someone’s question about some formation. Occasionally Dele will manage to grasp at one of the conversations, but then he’ll feel Eric’s slight breathing at the base of his neck or a small shift of Eric’s thigh and loses focus all over again. 

_Good luck catching up with the tactics on the day of the game,_ his brain unhelpfully supplies, and at the corner of his eye he can see Ben and Jadon giving him sly looks and raised eyebrows. He mouths back _fuck off_ the same time that Gareth claps his hands and wraps up the briefing. 

“Grab some dinner and sleep early, we’ve got an early session tomorrow!”

Dele scrambles off of Eric’s lap as soon as he hears the words leave Gareth’s mouth, and wills the blush in his face to go away when he sees Marcus and Jesse approach their area of the training complex. 

“I – I just remembered I have to go call Harry, it’s important,” Dele says hurriedly, already taking a step back towards the corridor. “About the uh – the brand. Big project coming up.” It's a lie, and everyone can surely see through him.

“What about dinner? Aren’t you hungry?” Eric’s looking at him quizzically, and Dele thinks that he doesn’t have the strength to look at Eric without having his knees buckle, so he just shrugs to the floor and starts walking towards the exit, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“I’ll join you guys later, it’ll just be a minute.” Dele doesn’t bother to check if the others are following him, and dashes up to his room in record time, deciding to take the stairs two at a time instead of the elevator. Dele’s fairly sure that he’s already half-hard in his shorts, and doesn’t want to think about the repercussions of showing up to dinner like this.

He spends the next twenty minutes standing under a steady stream of cold water, which does nothing to stop his brain from replaying back images of Eric Dier’s hands.

Dele doesn’t want to think about what that means. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration for this chapter was taken from this [gifset](https://footballthings20.tumblr.com/post/161747464386/englands-balancing-warm-up-120617-x) like he's properly struggling  
> i'm not sure when i'll be able to update this next as i'm going on vacation but hopefully it won't be too long! <3


	4. take care

For the first time in a while, Eric finally has a quiet evening to himself. With the past few weeks being occupied with late rehab sessions and invitations to dinners with old friends and teammates, the thought of making himself some carbonara and watching whatever soap’s playing on that night is almost comforting. It’s not like Eric doesn’t like spending time with his friends, but he’s never been overly social and always starts to feel tired after a few hours out.

The pitter-patter of Clay and Cisco’s paws fill the kitchen as he dishes out the carbonara into a plate. Eric looks down and sees the two waiting patiently at his feet for some of the pasta, eyes blinking expectantly. Their sad puppy expressions don’t sway Eric as they used to, and he smiles while setting the plate onto the dining table, away from the dogs’ reach. 

“You two have your own food, come on now,” he says, gently stepping over them and taking a seat at the table and starts to eat. Clay whines but makes his way over to his food bowl, with Cisco trailing behind.

The rest of the evening progresses slowly, and Eric watches as the sun gradually sets over the skyline, orange light filtering into his flat, until it starts to darken and the only source of light is coming from London’s buildings, cars, and lampposts. Eric washes the dishes while an episode of EastEnders plays softly in the living room. He’s only half paying attention to what’s going on, but decides to keep it playing just for the background noise.

After he sets the last plate into the dish rack, Eric takes his phone from his pocket to call his mum when he receives a bunch of text messages in rapid succession. The jumbled notification sound almost causes the phone to slip from his fingers before he tightens his grip and opens the messages app.

The texts are all from Dele, and if Eric thought that Dele’s texting was messy before, it’s nothing compared to how he’s texting now. 

**Dele:** eerinc 

**Dele:** erix DIE R

**Dele:** thidn club isso boring/

**Dele:** Th emusic is shit lol

**Dele:** club was harryss choice. Still lov him tho

Eric snorts as he reads over the texts, and pictures a wasted Dele huddled alone in a booth, eyes glued to his phone screen while he taps out messages so incomprehensible even autocorrect can’t help him. He remembers Dele telling him about his brother inviting him and a few friends out for drinks at a new nightclub that just opened. 

**Eric:** I thought u were usually the life of the party Del. What happened lol

**Eric:** Also take it easy on the drinks ok?

**Dele:** yea ok whtever u say diet we dont hav training tom anyways

**Dele:** jsut wish u were here ig

Eric pauses at the last message, thumbs hovering over the screen. He leans against the counter and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. _It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, just the two of us._ Eric thinks back to when Dele had just joined Spurs and their frequent movie and arcade nights. _Bet I could still beat you at bowling_.

**Eric:** Aww Dele, missing me already? 

**Eric:** I’m only 20 min away if you ever care to drive over for a change

Dele doesn’t reply after that, and Eric assumes that Harry has persuaded him to get off of his phone and join in on the dancing and partying with their friends. Eric shuts off his phone and tries his best to tune back in to what’s happening in the EastEnders episode. His family have always loved watching soap operas and Eric’s just never understood why; how could you stay interested on a show that spans over entire _decades_?

Soon enough, Clay and Cisco hop onto the couch and curl up beside Eric. He scratches lightly at their ears and yawns. The voices on screen are beginning to sound muffled and Eric thinks he hears one of the dogs snoring. His eyelids feel heavier and heavier, and Eric lets them close but not before his default iPhone ringtone breaks the peace and quiet.

Cisco barks at the sound, rudely awakened, and Eric does his best to calm him down before reaching over and picking up his phone that he threw into the couch cushions earlier. 

“Harry, hi, how are you, mate?” Eric asks, only slightly confused as to why Dele’s brother is calling him from a nightclub. 

“Good, good - listen Eric, I need a favour from you, okay?” Harry replies loudly, trying to drown out the loud music and cheering. “I hate to bother you on a Friday evening, but could you pick up Dele?”

“Dele? What happened?” Eric straightens and immediately feels more awake at the mention of his name. 

“It’s nothing serious, he just had too many drinks and is probably five seconds away from passing out, and I’m really hoping he doesn’t end up on another cover of _The Sun_ , y’know?”

Eric laughs at the memory of Dele in Ibiza, wasted at midday. “Yeah, you do have a point.”

“Besides,” Harry continues, “the little shit doesn’t want to take a cab, he’s been whining for you the whole night.”

“Sounds like Dele,” Eric replies, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Harry’s words. “Text me the address, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Eric! I owe you one, really.” With that, the call ends and Eric’s grabbing his keys and coat before heading out the door.

__ 

The club that Harry and Dele are at isn’t too far from Eric’s flat and the streets are rather calm for a Friday evening. Eric arrives in about ten minutes and parks at the side of the street, hoping that he won’t stay long enough to get a ticket.

People are still filtering in and out of the club, decked out in short dresses and patterned shirts with a cloud of perfume or cologne following them. The entrance is packed, and Eric shoulders past a group of girls in matching neon skirts to look for Harry. A shockingly pink cocktail gets pushed into his hand and he sets it down onto a random couple’s table as the song changes to something electronic that hurts Eric’s ears.

He’s about to pull out his phone to text Harry when a pair of arms wind around his shoulders and pulls him towards the other person’s body.

“Dier, you came,” Dele slurs into his ear, the obvious scent of sugary alcohol on his breath. Under the purple and blue lights Dele’s face is flushed and his skin is hot to the touch. Eric grins and brings his arm across Dele’s waist to keep him from falling over. Harry appears out of breath a few seconds later after struggling to get past a throng of people dancing to the horrible EDM.

“I sure did, Delboy,” Eric says with a nod to Harry who looks more relieved than anything. “Let’s get you home.”

“Thanks again, Eric, you’re a ledge,” Harry says while patting him on the back. “Drive safe, I’ll see you later, Del.”

Dele nods against Eric’s neck and smiles, his eyes about to slip shut. Eric gives him a little shake and leads them out of the club with an arm still around his waist. The sky is completely dark now, and they’re standing under a flickering streetlight. He breathes a sigh of relief when they can no longer hear the music and pauses to look at Dele.

“What did I say about the drinks?” Eric asks, but there’s no edge in his tone. He brings his hand from Dele’s waist to his neck, brushing over the trimmed curls.

Dele sighs and rubs his eyes with a closed fist. “Yeah, I know - but this guy was buying - bought shots for the whole club, and - and how could I just refuse, Diet?” Dele looks guilty and his eyes are apologetic, and Eric just can’t be mad. 

“I know, Dele. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Eric collects him into a hug and Dele leans into him while clutching the front of Eric’s coat. 

“I’m so fucking tired… I just want my bed,” Dele mumbles into his shoulder, and Eric is genuinely worried he might pass out on a random street in central London at 11 p.m. Eric pinches Dele’s side and he yelps, giving him a sleepy glare. 

“Can’t have you falling asleep on the street, can I?” Eric asks, tugging Dele along to his car. They’re the only ones out save for a few cars that speed by, and Eric feels strangely happy when he glances at Dele, half-asleep and tripping over his shoes every few steps. Although Eric could’ve been fast asleep in bed right now, a part of him missed this. _This_ being just him and Dele off the pitch, away from thousands of fans and cameras and interviewers and a clear image to uphold. He likes how easygoing and carefree these moments are, and can’t help but wish to always have this - with Dele. It’s too late at night to analyze what this thought really means, so Eric saves it for a later date.

__

Dele is out like a light as soon as he settles into the passenger seat. The streets are hardly busy at this hour, and Eric watches the bright, crisp colours of store signs and traffic lights as he streaks past them. It’s not long before they’re pulling up at Dele’s driveway, and he stirs when Eric shuts off the engine. 

“We’re here already?” Dele asks, the exhaustion evident in his voice and eyes already sliding closed again. 

“We are, Del. Your bed is just a few metres away,” Eric promises while reaching over to unbuckle Dele’s seatbelt. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” 

Dele yawns and keeps his eyes open this time as he opens the car door and steps out, still dizzy from the night’s earlier events. Eric’s there to steady him before they walk to the front door, Dele gripping Eric’s hand for balance. Dele fishes his keys out of his pocket and groggily looks for the right one in the dim light and attempts to slot it in. He tries twice - both of which are off centre and rests his head against the glass, a frustrated sigh escaping Dele’s lips.

“Let me,” Eric says softly, placing his hand over Dele’s and guiding it to the keyhole. The door clicks open and Eric flicks on the light before taking off his shoes. 

“I’ll get you some water, don’t forget to brush your teeth,” he tells Dele, who hums and gives Eric a tired smile. “I’m not drinking for at least another month,” Dele grumbles as he turns to head upstairs.

Eric returns upstairs after a few minutes to find Dele scrolling through his phone in bed, the duvet pulled up to his chin. He tosses his phone to the side and watches as Eric quietly makes his way over to the nightstand and sets down a glass of water. 

“Goodnight, Delboy,” Eric says through a yawn. “I’ll be in the guest room if you need anything.” He gives the room a once-over and turns to leave, when Dele catches his wrist and sits up.

Despite how much he’s had to drink tonight, Dele sounds surprisingly sober when he says, “You’re too good to me, Eric. Thank you.” He’s looking at Eric almost shyly and it’s so uncharacteristically endearing that he doesn’t know what to say, and just keeps sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at Dele with what must be the fondest look.

Dele doesn’t mind though, and Eric’s brain short-circuits when he brings his hands to either side of Eric’s face and plants a soft kiss to his cheek. Dele pulls away, blushing and averting his gaze. 

“Goodnight, Eric.”

If Eric’s mind wasn’t filled with _DeleDeleDele_ before, it sure is now. He chokes out a _‘night’_ and hastily exits the room, willing his pulse to calm down. He turns back to switch the light off, and Dele is already fast asleep like nothing even happened. As Eric walks down the hallway to the guest room, he convinces himself that the kiss meant nothing, that it was just a product of drunk Dele and his tendency to shower everyone with affection. That still doesn’t stop him from wishing that it did mean something.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really sure of how i feel about this chapter, but i'm sorry it took so long to get out! also i know how i wrote that dele isn't usually 'endearing' but let's be real... he's soft™

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this chapter + feedback is appreciated! <3


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